


Captain Nebulava: No Legend Greater

by DoodleFox_McGee



Category: Original Work
Genre: heavily unfinished, i hope you guys like it because i put a lot of time and effort into this, i thrive on criticism, please give me something to work off of...........pwease, really jan 2018 tho, the bare bones and structure of this idea have been in my head technically since 2017, uhhhhhhhhh leave comments on what i did well and what i can do better please
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-04 14:32:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18345602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoodleFox_McGee/pseuds/DoodleFox_McGee
Summary: A story about a galactic superheroine, a wanted criminal, an up-and-coming vigilante, and their quest to save the galaxy from one man's sinister ambitions. (HEAVY WORK IN PROGRESS)





	1. The Chapter That's Also A Prologue

Cryapolon was known as the planet of isolation for a reason.

People didn’t go there to party or have a good time; you either went there to die or you were brought there to die against your will. Landing on such a cold and unforgiving planet, one far away from any true sunlight, one covered in thick layers of snow that felt like glass if you sunk too deep into it, was essentially a death sentence. Very little plant life could grow there, and what did grow was usually considered a universal hazard to any intelligent being. The wildlife could survive off of these, but could also survive off of whatever poor sap ended up on the surface. Cryapolon was a no man’s land, a place for the worst of the worst to freeze to death in the seemingly constant snowfall.

Yet somehow, one of these men had made a home for himself on what the galaxy dubbed the “Galactic Iceberg”.

It was 2:54AM when the cruiser arrived on the mansion’s “dock”, positioned at the start of the walkway towards the foreboding structure. Sleek, curved with defined, sharp angles, and painted white with red energy seeping through the bits of glass positioned around the exterior. From the ship’s loading bay came two figures dressed in white fur with gold trims, carrying energy blasters that echoed the same design of their cruiser. Their masks echoed that of an Earth creature known as an “oryx”, albeit white and gold to match their outfits. Between the two was another man; a cowardly and meek man, a sense of worry permeated the sweat going down his scale-filled lavender skin. The two men dragged the third one, each holding him by one arm as they walked up the dock towards the mansion that loomed on top of the mountain’s peak and casted the foreboding shadow that covered what lay below it.

The mansion was a feat within itself; it was a monument to one man’s ambition, one man’s undying lust for survival. What was once the peak of a mountain, a sign of nature’s brilliance, had been shaved down and modified to accommodate the living abode of one of the planet’s many prisoners. A snow-less ring of rock surrounded the mansion as the heat inside was so foreign to Cryapolon that it seemed to immediately vanquish any nearby snow. The manor’s dark-brown wooden exterior was complemented by the gold trimming used for the door and window frames, colors chosen to overpower the sheer abundance of white and gray present on the planet’s surface. It was a fortress, and it made sure the few who travelled there knew it.

Upon the doors opening, the trio of men were greeted to a marble-laced interior that acted as a sort of foyer. Dual staircases curved upwards on either side of the room, leading to the second story above. A red and gold fleece carpet lined the floors, branching off into separate paths as they came in contact with doors to other rooms and the staircases. Beneath the second floor was another large set of doors, and from these came the sound of a song being played on what sounded to be a phonograph. The mansion itself was well lit, lights hanging from a ceiling in which an ancient alien art piece hung from above as if it was in a chapel or another place of worship. Against all odds, the mansion gave off a warm and cozy feeling on the inside.

All of this was interrupted when the two men threw their captive into the room where the music was coming from, landing flat on his face with the two slamming the doors behind him.

The music wasn’t the first thing to catch his eye; rather, everything else did. Compared to the rest of the manor, this room, which he could only assume was a sort of study, was considerably colder and more dormant. Bookshelves filled with vast amounts of knowledge were also filled with vast amounts of dust and cobwebs, the chandelier in the middle of the room was unlit, the drapes on a nearby window fluttered wildly, paintings and art pieces looked as if they had been frozen in time and hadn’t been touched in ages...the only thing that gave off any semblance of life was a phonograph producing the music. The song itself was seemingly from the much more lively planet of Earth, as were many of the records on display, spanning from Earth to Sesaña to Lun-Owah and other planets beyond that. It only hit the man that the record wasn’t the only thing producing a kind of sound.

Someone was singing along with it.

 _“There is...a house...in New Orleans…”_ __  
  
_“They call...the Rising Sun…”_ __  
  
_“And it’s been...the ruin...of many a poor boy…”_  
  
_“And God...I know...I’m one.”_

The man stood up straight as his spine shivered with suspense. Staring directly at the chair in front of him, he knew damn well who was behind it, but was too frightened for words.

 _“My mother...was...a tailor…”_ __  
  
_“She sewed...my new...blue jeans…”_ __  
  
_“My father...was... a gamblin’ man…”_  
  
_“Down...in New...Orleans.”_

As the man stared on at the chair, he slowly began to take steps forward. Scaling the desk and chair, he slowly panned around the room, hoping to not attract the attention of the man sitting in front of him.

 _“Now, the only thing...a gambler needs…”_ __  
  
_“Is a suitcase and trunk…”_ __  
  
_“And the only time he’s...satisfied…”_  
  
_“Is when...he’s on...a drug.”_

The man kept walking, trying in vain to potentially hide from what he had to confront. He backed himself into shadowy corners, preparing to hide away and wait for his obstacle to find him first if the worst came to pass-

_“Come and sit down, now. We don’t like strays here.”_

Almost instantly, a walking cane landed on top of the record and stopped the song, creating a sudden silence that already made the tight air of the room even tighter. The man yelped when he began to speak in the voice; a voice that spoke with a calm demeanor yet was filled with rage that would stab right through a man at any given moment. The chair began to turn around, revealing the man’s greatest fear.

Tyrian Aeolusious Shim.

The 7ft tall alien was dressed in a beige trenchcoat, complemented by a fuzz-riddled cap that echoed that of paperboys. A red scarf surrounded the bulk of his neck, laying on top of his white button-down undershirt. On his face was a large mechanical device that went around his entire lower jaw, stilted and aged breaths escaping from his natural scales in addition to the apparatus the old man needed to survive. His walking cane was repeatedly smacking down upon the palm of his open hand, a seemingly lackadaisical attitude echoing out of him as he did so. His yellow eyes followed the man’s every movement, his pupils reducing to slits the closer he got before the man fully sat down in the adjacent chair.

Silence.

Then, he began to speak.

_“Now, you’re Mr...Pathuul, am I correct?”_

“Y-Yes, Mr. Shim.”  
  
_“Alright. Now, Mr. Pathuul, according to my conversation with your representative, your construction crew was supposed to be here at about...this time yesterday. And here we are, without a shred of help from the people your representative told me would be here a day ago.”_

At this point, Shim stood up from his chair and began to walk circles around his desk and around Pathuul. Every step was agonizingly slow, deliberately drawn out as to intimidate the already intimidated Pathuul.

“I...I don’t know what you’re t-talking about, sir,” Pathuul replied meekly, never once breaking his gaze from the goliath trailing behind.

 _“Oh, I’m aware. I’m_ _very_ _aware you don’t know. In fact, I’m almost confident that you don’t know anything about what I asked of you...that, or your representative is an incompetent loon who can’t get a message through to you,”_ Shim replied, not even taking a second to look down at the morsel below him.

 _“...However, the past is in the past, and what’s important is that you’re here in the present. From the way you’re acting, I’m going to assume you’re...holding back information from me?,”_ the eldest of the two continued as he got further from Pathuul, dusting off one of his art pieces with a spare handkerchief in his trenchcoat pocket.

Pathuul shivered, knowing what Shim said to be true.

 _“...You’re quite lucky, Pathuul. Your representative got the short end of the stick; in exchange for you being here, my men had to take some...drastic measures,”_ Shim spoke before chucking a small gold object behind him and onto the desk where the man sat. Upon looking down, the man realized what the object was: a badge that people at the construction agency wore. Engraved in it was the name “Edmond Rothburn”...the name of his representative.

 _“Now then, Mr. Pathuul,”_ Shim voiced as he suddenly appeared behind the man, his hand on his shoulder, _“tell me why I didn’t get my crew from you.”_

The grandfather clock in the corner was the only sound in the entire room as sweat dripped off of Pathuul’s lilac skin. He was staring directly at the empty chair in front of him, not even bothering to look up at the behemoth of man casting a shadow over him.

“...He...he gave me the money.”  
  
_“Yes?”_

“I took...I took the money.”

 _“Mhm.”_  
  
“A-And I was gonna get a crew! Honest, sir! I was!”  
“Why is ‘was’ part of this conversation, Mr. Pathuul?”

“Well...I had...an idea. See, there’s this... _Godspeed_ tournament coming up in a few days, and they’re holdin’ amateur chariot races you can bet on. And I figured, ‘if my guy wins, I can get more money and get you an even bigger crew!’, so I bet on the race that was goin’ on!”

_“...How much did you put down?”_

The ticking of the clock echoed throughout the room before Pathuul began to speak once more.

“...A-All of it...sir.”

Silence.

_“...I’m going to assume that you, perhaps, didn’t win?”_

“I got scared! I ran off after I lost the bet ‘cause I was scared, man!”  
_“Scared of_ _what_ _, exactly?”_

“...You, sir.”

Time seemed to come to a crawl as the truth escaped the lesser alien’s lips. Neither party moved a muscle as even the grandfather clock seemed to stop working. The tension between the two was palpable beyond measure, one never breaking his gaze from the other as the other looked into furniture and fittings around the room.

“...Shim, I can make it up to you, I-I promise! Trust me, I’ll never make that mistake again! I’ll go get you a crew, a-and it’ll be the best goddamn crew in the galaxy-”  
_“I’m glad you told me the truth, Pathuul.”_

“...M-Me too, Mr. Shim-”  
The room’s silence was ended when a gunshot fired through Pathuul’s chest and barely grazed Tyrian’s own chair. Shim himself was holding his cane as if it was a firearm, smoke escaping from the tip before he leaned the tip towards Pathuul’s mouth. The man’s last breath was what extinguished the smoke, the body collapsing onto the carpet and laying motionless as blue blood leaked out from the wound.

_“Because you’re a terrible liar.”_

Shim turned around and walked out of his study, leaving Pathuul to rot as the two men who brought him in stood watch, following Shim as he journeyed deeper into the mansion, eventually ending up at the entrance to what seemed to be an underground hangar. As he went further down into the mansion, he was greeted by more faceless men in the same coat and mask combo, walking alongside him as he made his journey to the industrial hangar.

The hangar seemed to be bigger than the mansion itself, extending for a good long while. Within it were sleeping stations for the masked men, dubbed Krewaki Stations, entire weapon and armor racks, and dozens of similarly designed cruisers as the one on the dock (albeit painted black instead of white). The Krewaki behind Shim began to chant, causing a good amount of them to flood out of the stations, surrounding Shim by the hundreds. It was clear that the hangar, embedded in the side of the mountain where the mansion stood, was their home.

Surrounded by followers, Shim began to speak.

_“It seems that...drastic measures must be taken in order to achieve our destinies. We’ll be needing the help of...them, despite my stance on their methods and behavior. They’d be willing to help if there’s money involved, but luring them to my side yields...certain hurdles to overcome.”_

The man looked down upon his crew. Despite the number of them, the Krewaki weren’t the type to build; they seemed to focus on combat and destruction, hence why they were always loaded with at least one weapon.

_“Guild 1 is going to end up on Greacia where you’ll need to meet with the most 'peaceful of our guests.' She’s not likely to come willingly, but if resistance is met, do_ _not_ _hesitate to fight back.”_  


_“Guild 2, you’ll be searching the Psychosystem for its respective guest. You’ll be going with the highest amount of bodies; the target is frail, but with their ability, physical weapons may not be able to do anything. Numbers count.”_ __  


_“Guild 3, you’re going to be landing on the Harbinger, currently in the Qwan-Ni district of the galaxy. Focus on subduing our guest; their strength is unrivalled, but their intelligence is purely average.”_

_“Guild 4 is going to take down the Black Knight and take its pilot alive back here. He’s an absolute wild card and incredibly physically flexible, and its important to keep all potential tabs on him and what he’s doing at all times.”_  
  
_“Finally, Guild 5 is to meet Dr. Tobias Andon on Draxivion. He knows you’re coming and will lead you to our guest, who will be subdued and unconscious by the time you arrive. It’s important that you handle him with care and monitor him while he’s sleeping.”_

_“Do I make myself clear?”_

All Krewaki soldiers around Shim bellowed with a resounding noise that he understood as a “yes” in their language. The troops left for their ships, bigger groups taking larger cruisers dubbed “Rams” that were less sleek than their smaller counterparts, but had much more firepower to boot. As each ship began to take off, Tyrian look on in a neutral expression, waving his more eager soldier goodbye as only two remained by his side; the two who flew the docked cruiser above. When all ships took off, he looked down at the two, noting the other Krewaki who insisted on staying in the mansion.

_“You’re all tasked with protecting the fortress while I’m away. I have business to attend to and I trust that not one of you will let me down. Understand?”_

The two soldiers replied with the same reply the others had, calling upon more of their brethren to help guard the mansion and hangar while they took Tyrian upstairs and outside to the dock, the ship’s lights coming on upon the duo chanting. As the door opened, the old man took a breath and exhaled, snow and frost escaping his apparatus before he stepped inside, the door closing behind him. The ship finally took off from the dock, flying towards a place that’s even colder than Cryapolon: the depths of space.

Cryapolon may have been a no man’s land, but it was always Tyrian’s no man’s land.


	2. The Chapter With The Main Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A story about a galactic superheroine, a wanted criminal, an up-and-coming vigilante, and their quest to save the galaxy from one man's sinister ambitions. (HEAVY WORK IN PROGRESS)

“The Allseer has come to take what’s ours, and none of you unfaithful scourge can stop us!”

A man who could only be described as a walking charred corpse wrapped in ropes and cloth stood in front of the Galucia Imperial Bank, being the only thing stopping the raging fire from inside from escaping onto the street. Passerby ran in different directions as more cloaked men hauled sacks of cash from the burning interior, all having a single cloth wrapped around their eyes. The “Allseer”, as he called himself, was known as more of a nuisance in the grand scheme of things; he seemed to be some sort of cult leader, always preaching about this “Archivileon” figure he and his men worshipped. The bags of cash they were stealing were being funneled directly into a large futuristic chariot-like vehicle as bystanders looked on and began to film what was happening.

“For too long has our great god been besmirched by the _lies_ perpetrated by your cruel and unjust society! You, who are untouched by the glory of Archivileon, have tainted the outside world and forced the Ascended Ones into a place of unsavory repute! We will begin our uprising by taking what you function on and turning it into your _downfall!_ ,” the almighty Allseer screamed out, twisting and turning his blinded face towards the onlookers as he hopped into the backseat of the vehicle, his minions following suit.

Members of the United Galactic Confederation were standing in front of the citizens, telling them to get back as the chariot’s motors began to rev up and its four wheels began to spin, folding underneath the chassis. The officers began to fire at the vehicle and its occupants, but each member of the cult was equipped with silver wrist blades that acted as cover for their relatively frail bodies, the bullets ricocheting off of their weapons and ending up in random locations around the crime scene.  
  
“The Ascended Ones are taking off! I repeat, the Ascended Ones are taking-,” one officer began to say before being struck in the face by a flying chariot, sending him crashing into the ground as the criminals drove through Galucia’s streets at blazing speeds. Immediately, half of the UGC soldiers hopped onto their own vehicles; slim hovering motorcycles with dual blasters on each side of the front, the small windshield in the front being able to wrap around the bike as if it were a bubble. The other half stayed at the scene of the crime, helping out any injured civilians and getting the area ready for the UGC’s fire division, almost immediately after, a flying fire truck came down from the sky and unloaded a dozen men dressed in protective suits fashioned after astronauts and firemen, wielding what appeared to be highly advanced water guns and running into the blaze.

One officer, comforting a distressed alien woman, looked both ways and pressed a button on his helmet, an LED on the top flashing blue as he did so. Immediately, all blue lights on his fellow officers helmets began to flash the same shade of blue. All seemed to understand what the light meant, but went on with working on the crime scene anyway.

The Ascended Ones continued to destroy property in their path, ramming into floating cars and bikes as they made their escape. The UGC officers, still in hot pursuit, managed to avoid the debris and continue driving despite the best efforts of the cult.   
“Great Allseer! What’s the best method of retaliation?,” one member inquired, staring (or at least trying to due to the cloth around their eyes) directly at his leader.

“Perhaps giving back some of their precious papers would keep them busy!,” the Allseer cackled, lifting up one of the bags of money and chucking it directly at the closest officer, the bag causing the officer to turn directly into a nearby building as his vehicle exploded. The Allseer began to cackle, deliberately ordering his minions to steer the chariot in ways that their pursuers wouldn’t expect. He forced them to turn the chariot backwards, deflecting shots fired at them and blowing holes in the bikes that fired at them. He even commanded one of his followers to leap out from the chariot and land directly on an officer, the man forcing the bubble shield to go up as the bike collided into a complex.

“For every god, a sacrifice is needed!,” the old man laughed as the chariot spun around once more and swerved in and out of traffic.

The cult sped through the city, hopping over flying cars, oncoming traffic, and even using an anti-gravity feature to scale a particularly tall building. As the officers kept firing at the chariot, the few left failed to notice the member riding the shield-covered bike, the officer who previously rode upon it nowhere to be seen. The loon opened fire on both bikes, destroying their wheels and continuing the chase before the man leaped back into the chariot with his fellow brothers, the bike skidding out of control with the lack of a driver.

Without anymore opposition, the cult blazed through Galucia before ending up at an underpass, the red highlights of the chariot helping to guide the vehicle towards its destined location.   
“Alright, boys...TURN!”

Immediately, the members turned the chariot directly into a wall; yet, rather than exploding, the chariot phased through the wall unharmed and kept driving down a seemingly abandoned tunnel, the red lights being the only source of light in the otherwise blackened void of road and concrete. As they kept driving, ancient torches began to appear and disappear due to the speed the chariot was going at, followed by stone carving, ancient symbols, and eventually banners that barred the cult’s symbol: a single eyeball with two pupils within it. Finally, the chariot screeched to a halt within the chamber, sitting among thrones carved from stone, a pit of lava, a vast amount of stolen materials on one side of the room, a disturbing amount of ancient weapons on the other side, and finally, a large altar that stood behind the largest throne of the bunch.

They were home.

“Brothers, this is just the start of something  _ magical _ . Finally, we will stand tall against our oppressors and showcase Archivileon’s brilliance to a new generation! The impure dwellers of the world above will fall to their knees and perish like the  _ DOGS _ they are as the Ascended One’s rise to prominence!,” the Allseer bellowed, resulting in a series of cheers and chanting from his followers. As they rejoiced, they all gathered together in a circle and began to put their wrist blades on top of one another, creating a circle of themselves.

“ **_QUIA OCULO AD OCULUM!_ ** ,” the men chanted, raising their weaponized arms as they began to separate, grabbing their newfound riches from their vehicle and throwing them on top of the rest of their pillaged goods.

“You know, I’ve been waiting here for a little while. When does  _ my  _ initiation start?”

The disembodied voice startled everyone in the cult, their blinded heads turning towards the location of where it came from. Almost on cue, one of the many thrones the cult used swiveled around, revealing a figure sitting upon it in a manner so nonchalant, you would think they had no idea what they had gotten themselves into.

That couldn’t be further from the truth.

She was over six feet tall, easily towering over any of the cult members if she were to stand up. She was an African-American human, covered from head to toe in muscles. Her outfit consisted of a teal leotard complimented by a bright orange cape and a gold belt with a triangle-like symbol in the middle. The leotard itself seemed to be fashioned off of 1950’s depictions of humanity’s future endeavors in space, the cape itself was connected to the leotard in a pointed collar-like style via a golden star-shaped emblem. Underneath the leotard were gray leggings that led straight down into boots that shared the teal coloration. Her hands were decked out in gloves with the same gray color, going up to the elbow with the remaining space being pure skin. Her face was adorned with red lipstick and a blue mask that covered her eyes, obscuring her pupils from the outside world and giving off a white glow. Finally, her hair, black with streaks of white in it, was in a strange pompadour-like shape that curled upwards towards the end.

Captain Nebulava had arrived.

“Ah, Captain Nebulava! I see you’ve decided to join our ranks!,” the Allseer began to screech, a yellow-toothed grin reappearing on his bony face.

“Never thought you and your men would think so highly of an ‘impure surface dweller’, Lukali. You had a change of heart?,” Nebulava addressed the man in a playful tone, spinning one of her enemy’s many stolen goods on her index finger, her other hand curled into a fist laying on her cheek.

“To think that you would come into our home and mock us, to deface our  _ GOD _ in his children’s presence...who’s to say  _ YOU _ aren’t the real villain?,” the Allseer replied, drawing out his wrist blades as he began to pace around the front of the throne. His men began to do the same, revealing their similar weapons.

“You believe in a god, so who’s to say this isn’t the path he set you on? To come face to face with someone who challenges your views and makes you fight for your beliefs?”

“He would never do such a thing. The god most of you... _ animals _ believe in is cruel, unjust, and left your worlds to rot as he went off to continue the cycle. Ours...is greater. He fills his children with full bellies and full minds until they’re in peak condition, really to lead his mission of cleansing filth from the surface world.”   
  
“And yet here he is, leaving you and your men malnourished and hungry. If your god is so good, why are you committing various crimes such as…*ahem*, grand theft, arson, third and first-degree murder, robbery-”   
  
“ _ Because those above us seek to oppress us and undermine us. _ Your laws don’t matter to us here. It’s only fair we take what we can get.”   
  
“Alright, alright, I see what you’re getting at. I don’t agree...at all, but I get’cha I guess. I don’t have anymore questions-wait, wait, I got one more!”   
  
“Choose your next words carefully, captain.”

“...You guys wanna play catch?”   
  
Immediately, Nebulava chucked the artifact to her right, catching the attention of two of the cult members. The two made a mad dash for the item, crashing into the ground and leaving the wall of weapons unguarded. It was at this moment where Nebulava formed a finger gun with her right hand, causing a blast of solar energy to fire out from her index and middle fingers and collide with the wall, completely destroying all extra weapons the cult had. Molten metal and stone fell from the home, the blast creating a sizable tunnel to nowhere due to its sheer force.   
“Guess not,” the captain chuckled as she leaped up from the seat and stood tall, aiming her hand directly at the Allseer.

“ **_CERTAE USQUE AD MORTEM!,_ ** ” all remaining members shouted at once, lunging towards Nebulava with sinister intent.

Despite the number of members, Nebulava was easily able to take all of them at once. The first came at her screeching, an action that she responded to with a swift punch to the jaw that sent the frail man flying. As the second threw his arms towards her face, the heroine ducked in time for the blades to pass over her head, allowing her to slide along the ground and send the man crashing onto his knees. No matter how many times the men seemed to come for her, she knew they were no match for her twenty years of expertise. She consistently dodged and countered their attempts, never once aiming to kill any of them. Every punch, kick, and energy blast from her fingers was methodically timed so that her assailants would only be incapacitated.

Nebulava did plenty of things; killing wasn’t one of them.

The men’s frail physiques defied how many times they got back up again. They were resilient, always going for seconds no matter how many times they were suplexed, thrown against walls, tossed at fellow brothers, and physically beaten up. Their weapons began to dull and shatter due to the failure to strike the experienced woman, resorting to trying to pin her down via lunging. This method failed as well; Nebulava always had quick wits and used her tongue to her advantage, laughing at the attempts her foes put forward and returning each attack with one that was equally, if not more, devastating. Nebulava relished in the joy of busting criminals, every twist and turn being filled with a love and excitement for her job.

Eventually, each member began to lose the will to fight, collapsing while still in denial of their easy defeats. One even tried to jump on Nebulava’s back and slash her throat, but was too tired to even do that and fell to the ground when Nebulava moved out of the way and slapped him on the back, the hooded man joining his fellow brethren on the stone floor.

“Alright...guess you didn’t wanna play? You could’ve just...admitted that, instead of...attacking me,” Nebulava talked to herself as he wandered over to the group’s pile of stolen goods, beginning to lift up one ton of loot and toss it into the cult’s chariot.   
“Now where do you think  _ you’re _ going, surface dweller?”   
Nebulava was met with a silver blade going along the side of her face, almost touching her skin as the Allseer purposely avoided physically touching her.   
“You think you, a measly upholder of the corrupt, can barge into our home and take back what we rightfully gained? You hold no respect for Archivileon and those who aim to keep his word in the minds of those who have forgotten!”

Nebulava sighed, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes as she slowly stood up, slowly towering over the frail man as he raised his arm higher and higher to keep his wrist blade up close to her neck. Not once did she turn around to face him, much to the desperation of the cult leader. As she finally stood tall, facing the brick wall in front of her, she could feel the hate-filled man’s arm shake along with the blade, never touching her but always present a second away from her neck.

“...I  _ do  _ think that, yes.”  
  
With that, Nebulava delivered a swift kick to the Allseer, causing him to stumble back and cry out in pain, unleashing an inhuman groan.

“Well then, I think you’ll be surprised  _ by my RESPONSE!, _ ” the Allseer yelled before launching into a full-blown fight with the hero.

Unlike the fight against his mooks, the Allseer was no pushover. He was able to land hits on her, moving his emaciated body in such ways that he bended and twisted around plenty of her finger blasts, strikes, and kicks. He was crafty and cunning, making an effort to match the six-foot-five wall of muscle blow for blow even if not all hits seemed to land. His wrist blades were particularly special, curving in much more and adorned with gems that Lukali claimed were “blessed by Archivileon himself”. Every slash was followed by a mad cackling or a toothy grin, even ones that didn’t connect or were countered by the harder-hitting Nebulava. 

Nebulava still wasn’t a slouch; the towering woman didn’t see the insane assailant as a full threat. While not as quippy when fighting him, she wasn’t afraid and matched all of his attacks with ones that hit harder faster.   
  
“I see you’ve been preparing for whenever you met me, huh?”   
  
“Yes, and I see you’ve been preparing for me for a long time as well!”   
  
“Actually, it was just a minute or two. Then again, I’m sure time doesn’t-,” Nebulava stopped in order to avoid being impaled by the fiend, “-fully register for you.”   
  
“I’ve been alive for hundreds of years. I know every trick surface dwellers like you keep up their sleeves.”   
  
“Criminal record says you’re sixty. Pretty sure-,” the superheroine grunted as she dodged a dual blade swipe across her stomach, “-that isn’t close to the hundreds.”

“Well then, your failure of a numerical system is wrong!”  
  
“...Mmmm, don’t think so, pal.”

“ **_SILENCE!_ ** ,” the insane cult leader bellowed as his attacks intensified, his sentences and rebuttals whittling down to mere statements. What was once a confident and boisterous leader had become nothing more than an infuriated and manic shell of a man.

As the fight went on, the Allseer’s wrist blades began to dull, the silver objects losing their luster with each increasingly uncoordinated strike. Nebulava, noticing this, kicked Lukali backed and causing him to stumble back in pain. Now that he was far away from her, she took this chance to fire a blast of energy out from her fingers, the blast landing on his right wrist blade. The blade exploded, slowly melting away as the half of the man’s defense was stripped away from him.

“... _ Coward _ .”  
  
The Allseer screamed as he ran towards Nebulava once more, pulling his weaponized arm back and thrusting it towards her neck. What the man didn’t expect was for the weapon to almost land and pierce her skin, but lay a few inches from it has Nebulava gripped his wrist with force beyond that of a normal human. In vain, the man tried to force his arm out of her hand, but couldn’t even slip the wrist blade off. Nebulava began to tighten her grip around his wrist, cracks appearing around the dulled blade as her mouth formed into a smirk. Lukali began to screech as Nebulava‘s grip tightened further and further, the metal at its breaking point as her palm began to heat up.

Then, the weapon finally broke.

Lukali Albadur was left weaponless as the law had finally caught up to him.

“Would a coward take the time to do that?”   
Nebulava released the man’s arm, purposefully left untouched due to the metal protecting it. The previously confident leader was now staring at his wrists in disbelief, surrounded by defeated brothers and the destruction the two duelists had caused. The man’s shock was interrupted when the sound of jingling treasure filled the chamber, lifting his head to see the captain lifting literal tons of treasure into the cult’s chariot. The wheels were forcefully ripped off and thrown into the lava pit as Nebulava dusted off her hands, effortlessly lifting up the now thousand-plus pound carriage before winking at Lukali.

“You...you...you’ll  _ pay for your meddling, captain! _ ,” the Allseer said as he darted towards her, leaping up into the air as if he was a feral beast before his leg was grabbed by Nebulava mid-air. 

Now dangling by his leg, the giant woman continued to smirk before slamming him on top of the treasure he had stolen. Once again, she began to pick up the carriage, holding it on top of her open palm as she rested her other hand on her hip.

“It’s ‘Nebulava’, Lukali.”

With that, Nebulava burst through the ceiling of the chamber, blasting straight through layers of brick, dirt, and rock as the Allseer wailed in terror. Upon bursting through the surface, the duo didn’t stop moving higher at incredible speeds; Lukali could easily see the underpass, the road, the buildings, and the rest of Galucia as the carriage flew higher and higher towards the atmosphere. Nebulava kept going, flying past birds and high-flying vehicles until everyone was high up above the clouds, the city below barely even visible as the naturally orange daytime sky got darker before the hero stopped, floating high above the city.

“Do you  _ know  _ how busy I am today? I’m gonna do some public speaking for the UGC, I gotta go make myself some dinner, probably get an alien out of a tree, and here you are wasting my time by continuing to resist arrest! I am just so fed up with you right now, Lukai! I’m just so - ugh!,” Nebulava yelled in a tone that was a mix of seriousness and mockery. In reality, she did have to do all of these soon (minus the tree part...probably), but wasn’t really stressed about it if it meant that she could scoop another criminal off of the streets.

“ _ PUT ME DOWN! FOR ARCHIVILEON’S SAKE, I’LL DO ANYTHING! _ ,” the cult leader screamed, fully losing his determined demeanor.

“I mean, I had a whole speech planned out and everything! I gotta talk to little kids, man! Can’t you attack people on literally any other day, or do you not have the decency to do that?”   
  
“ _ PLEASE! I’LL OBEY WHAT YOU SAY! JUST PUT ME DOWN! _ ”   
  
“...Oh, oh! You want me to put you down? Alright, I  _ guess  _ I could just...slip my hand out from under the carriage and have all of the wealth you’ve stolen crush you if that’s what you want-”   
  
“ _ NO! I’ll obey the laws of the surface dwellers if it means I make it out ALIVE! _ ”

“Are you  _ sure _ ? I could always-”   
“ _ YES! YES, I AM SURE! _ ”

“...I hope you realized I wouldn’t have actually killed you, you know that, right?”   
  
“Well, you didn’t make it evident, wench!”   
  
“...Removing hand in three-”   
  
“ _ NO NO NO! I didn’t mean it! I’m sorry! _ ”   
  
“Gotcha’!,” Nebulava laughed as she began to fly under the clouds, throwing the carriage up into the air and grabbing it by the back of the main seat, much to the dismay of the frightened Lukali.

Down below at the Galucia Imperial Bank, the officer was still comforting the woman as the fire was being contained. More UGC officers were crowded around the scene, keeping citizens away from the fire and cleaning up the scene, their blue lights still going off. Suddenly, the lights all turned off at once, prompting the one officer to stare up at the sky. The sun was blocked by the silhouette of a woman holding a carriage in one hand, staring down at the officer as she dropped the chariot, all of the stolen goods falling out as the Allseer fainted from exhaustion and terror. Audible cheering and claps were heard as officers made swift work out of Lukali, handcuffing his hands and legs and throwing him inside of a carrying cruiser while other officers went to locate the known location of the cult and arrest the other members.

“Another job well done, captain!,” the officer yelled from below before delivering the traditional UGC salute: the hand pats their left breast twice before the same arm flies to the side, pointing straight outwards before stomping your left foot down on the ground. In unison, every officer that wasn’t taking care of some emergency did the same motion and created a sound that echoed throughout the crime scene. 

“Wish I could stay, gang, but I got a speech to attend to! Cheers!,” Nebulava yelled before flying through the sky, heading deeper into Galucia as she congratulated herself for another job well done.

As long as the galaxy was safe, so was Lupita Nebulava.

* * *

 

Galucia Middle School wasn’t the place that had the galaxy’s most recognizable superhero show up often, if at all. Going there in her teens, Lupita felt right at home walking down the hallways more than twenty years later. Mrs. Harper, the school’s principal, had Lupita disguise herself in a trenchcoat and fedora with a plush dummy on her shoulders so that the surprise wouldn’t be ruined for the kids. Granted, a seven foot tall person in a trenchcoat walking into your school was enough of a surprise, but the auditorium full of kids was waiting on someone, and that someone happened to  _ not  _ be seven feet tall and was removing the fedora and coat in Harper’s office. Once every student was accounted for in the auditorium, Lupita began to walk down the hallway, removing her mask to reveal her real eyes; while mostly normal, her irises were bright “radioactive” green, an impossible color for a human like her.

The auditorium gasped when she first came in, slowly walking up to the makeshift podium. Then, the gasps erupted into cheers, rampant yelling of “WE LOVE YOU, NEBULAVA!”, and the flashing of cameras on the student’s holo-phones as she took her steps towards the microphone.

The woman cleared her throat, adjusting the microphone and wincing at the noise it made when her hand accidentally touched the speaker.

Then, she began to speak.

“When I was six years old, I was left broken and alone. I was floating in space with no way of contacting anyone else. I wasn’t even in a ship; I was floating past chunks of ice and meteors...still breathing, of course. Then, the floodlights landed on me, and the next thing I know, I’m in the custody of the United Galactic Confederation...I’m being cared for...I’m learning how to control my new abilities...I’m donning this outfit...and now I’m here, standing in front of you to advocate for the people that advocated for me.”   
  
“The United Galactic Confederation, as you all know, covers everything; from putting out fires to arresting criminals, to testing our food to making our technology, to creating galactic peace to ensuring better futures for its youth...we live together in a world where problems like mass poverty, hunger, and prejudice have been minimized, if not outright eradicated. But we have enemies from far away...enemies I can’t deal with alone, enemies that outnumber the confederation, enemies that aim to disrupt the peace and cause chaos...enemies like the Ascended Ones.”   
  
“To support the confederation is to support the galaxy at large. To hope alongside them, to work with your neighbor in times of need, to make sure everyone is...well, happy, is to be a hero. A hero isn’t just someone who wears a costume and fights criminals. No, a hero can be anyone. Anyone who does the right thing, even when someone says it's wrong, even when no one but you believes in it, even when you’re backed up against a wall... _ that _ , friends, is what being a hero is.”

“Joining the confederation when you’re older is a great avenue to express just one layer of support for the people who die out on the fields of battle every day to protect you. You don’t even need to hold a weapon; there’s plenty of jobs out there for you that suit the needs of different people from planet to planet. Even watering a plant helps in ways even  _ I  _ can’t imagine! No matter what you do, you tie this galaxy together!  _ You  _ are the spark of hope the future desires!”

“Children of Galucia Middle School, you can make a difference! You’re able to save the day wherever you go!  _ You  _ will lead the future, and you will be the ones who defend the galaxy from those who seek to corrupt it! You are the confederation’s heroes, and we’re all counting on you!”

Upon these final words, the audience of young kids erupted into clapping, whistles, and cheering as the camera flashes increased. After the speech, Nebulava crouched down away from the podium and gave out autographs and selfies with the kids she was talking to. She was a genuine soul and held love for the youth, knowing that the future of...everything, really, depended on them. Plus, most of the kids she had interacted with before were also genuine souls; one once gave her a crayon drawing of her and them after she had saved them from a home intruder, the drawing now being hung up in her starship, the  _ Mars _ . After this, she held a small Q&A session with the kids, answering the few questions she could.  
  
“Why do you have a starship if you can breathe in space?,” one three-eyed horned boy yelled out from the back of the room.

“Well, sometimes, I use the  _ Mars _ to get to emergencies faster than I can travel in space on my own. I can be on one side of the galaxy and get to the other in a matter of seconds,” the superheroine responded to the boy.

“What was the worst criminal you’ve ever fought?,” one girl with a second head on top of her first head asked from the front.   
“If you mean the strongest, it’d probably have to be Lord Galaxia; it took me two days to fully take him down, and even that didn’t seem to be enough. If you meant the weakest, than I just fought the Allseer today, and he’s...a character, that’s for sure. Ironic that the leader of the ‘Ascended Ones’ is afraid of heights,” Lupita replied, a series of chuckles coming from the audience.

“Where does your family live?,” a small boy from the middle of the audience asked, waving his hand around to get her attention.

Her family.

She hadn’t seen them since 1985.

She didn’t even know if they were still alive. Despite her ties to the United Galactic Confederation, she never had a family to speak of in there; all of the instructors came and went without ever establishing a connection between her the rest of the group besides respect. Her mom and dad, and hopefully little brother if the pregnancy worked out, were all still on Earth, unaware of her daughter’s whereabouts. She didn’t remember their faces, only their voices and their home: a small apartment on Wissahickon Avenue (or at least she thought it was there), Philadelphia on Earth. She knew where she came from and it was technically only a day or two away.

She was just too scared to go back.

“Oh! Um...my family lives all throughout the galaxy. I don’t really have a blood family, but I got tons of friends all over in high and low places. I make my family out of allies...allies like you,” she responded to the child, being simultaneously sure and unsure of the validity of her own answer.

The Q&A continued on for about a half hour before Nebulava‘s time at the middle school was up, prompting her to slip her mask back on and pose for the kids. There was nothing better than making a kid, or even over a hundred kids, light up in glee, and she would gladly go through the theatrics if it made even one of them smile.

Lupita walked down the hallways once more, shaking Ms. Harper’s hand as she went for the exit. After a day of preparation and duking it out with crazed cult members, she was ready to bunker down for the night and hit the hay-  
  
_ Da-da-ding! Da-da-ding! _

Shoot. That was her communicator.

Upon pressing the button on the side of her left glove, a hologram of a moustached UGC soldier popped up in front of her, the glove projecting the man in front of Nebulava and the school. The hologram was a stark blue to contrast against the orange sky above the both.

“Captain Nebulava, ma’am. The head organizer of the  _ Godspeed  _ tournament has requested a meeting with you whenever you’re available,” the soldier yelled, the digitalization messing with the quality of his voice. Nebulava sighed and rolled her eyes in a look of slight tiredness.

“Alright, officer. Where am I to be meeting them?,” the woman replied.

“You’ll be meeting him at...hold on a second,” the soldier began to say before leaning to the side and yelling at another soldier off-screen, half of his body disappearing outside of the hologram.   
  
“HEY, CLARK! WHERE’S THE GUY AGAIN?”   
  
“ _ HE’S IN THE OFFICE ROOM, LEROY! _ ”   
  
“ALRIGHT! THANK YOU!”   
  
“ _ HEY, LEROY! I FOUND A FUNNY IMAGE OF A SASQUATCH! WANNA SEE IT? _ ”   
  
“I’M TALKING TO LUPITA, DOOFUS!”   
  
“ _ OH, SORRY, MS. NEBULAVA! _ ”

Nebulava was in the process of taking deep breaths and tapping her foot on the ground, waiting for Clark and Elroy to stop talking and get to the point.

“He’s in the office room...the room right behind me...that one,” Elroy said as he fully came back into the frame, pointing to a door that Nebulava couldn’t see.   
  
“You’re...at the Galucia Capital, right, soldier?,” the hero asked as she began to lose her patience.   
  
“Yes, ma’am...I’ve never used this hologram crap, did I do good?,” Elroy asked, lifting his visor to reveal what she thought were purely silver eyes.   
“...Yes?”   
“Alright! *ahem* Report to the capital whenever you’re ready, captain, ma’am!,” the soldier yelled as he deepened his voice to sound more “macho” in a sense, enacting the UGC salute before the hologram finally cut out.

Nebulava chuckled to herself as she headed towards her ship, the  _ Mars _ . The thing was relatively large, able to seat up to four passengers in the control center or in small beds on the side. The ship itself was designed after a burst of electricity, the front of it being rounder as it led to plenty of decorate spikes in the back that either helped with aerodynamic control, concealed the engines or thrusters, or were just there to look cool. It was painted blue at the cockpit with it slowly turning orange as it went towards the back of the ship. The glass was bright yellow and looked opaque from the outside, but was translucent and see-through on the inside. The ship was very bold; you couldn’t hide this from anyone no matter how hard you tried.

And it was home.

As the  _ Mars  _ began to lift off, Nebulava adjusted an ornament she had hanging on the ship’s ceiling; a plastic orange bucket in the shape of a jack-o-lantern. The thing was clearly aged, the black paint showing wear and scratches from years of existing, old candy wrappers from decades ago lingering inside of it. It was tied to the roof in such a way that no matter what, the wrappers wouldn’t fall out and the bucket itself wouldn’t fall of its harness. 

It was cheap, of course. But it was something she cherished. Something that had survived with her for all of these years.

With that, she took off once more, leaving behind her old school once more as well.

* * *

 

Galucia was well-known for being the political heart of the galaxy. A city on the planet of Vanisivich, it was also well-known for being the main base of the United Galactic Federation, the government creating Galucia and its capital building as symbols of hope, prosperity, and peace among the galaxy. Of course, like any well-off city, it had it’s grimy underbelly, but it was always overshadowed by the glitz and glamor of the city otherwise. The capital itself was two stories tall, created out from the strongest (yet most reasonable to obtain) materials in the galaxy, purchased and donated from planets all around the galaxy along with Vanisivich itself. Bright lights stood out among the seemingly infinite amounts of bushes and greenery, some of it imported from other areas around the galaxy. The walls were adorned with both ancient and modern engravings alongside banners displaying the iconic catchphrase of the confederation: “ _ Peace Through Humility _ ”.

As Lupita walked past the duo of large wooden doors, the soldiers guarding them gave her a wave and informed her of where she needed to be, only to apologize when she told them she already knew. The inside of the capital was decked out in a lovely wood-grain finish as ornate rugs and curtains decorated the walls and floors respectively, orange lights illuminating the walls alongside them. The ceiling was decorated with an abstract yet beautiful painting of  two large eyes in the middle of a maze of planets, rockets, and stars, all of them aligning to create the visage of a face. Plenty of people - soldiers, government employees, a homeless man being dragged out by two soldiers - were around in the room, including who appeared to be Elroy by the office room doors. Upon noticing Nebulava had arrived, he immediately perked up and opened the door for her.

“He’s right this way, captain, ma’am!,” the soldier said, trying his best to look professional around the woman he seemed to look up to so much.

“Many thanks, good sir!,” Nebulava replied, giving the man a quick salute before walking into the office as the door closed behind her.

The room itself was similarly decorated to the previous room, continuing the warmth in the atmosphere, albeit in a much smaller space. Doors were on the left and right of the room, a large ornate window in the back of it. In the middle was an elongated table that stretched all the way to the back of the room, the chairs following a plush red and gold design. Nebulava could see her seat in the middle of the right row; she had to go here when she was a part of meetings on safety and new bills and the like. In front of her was a chair that had been turned around, with someone smoking a cigar leaning their arm on the armrest.   
“So...yous that Nebulava gal, right?,” the figure asked, their voice somewhat distorted as it gave off a metallic echo.

“That would be me, Mr….,” Nebulava began to reply before realizing she didn’t know the man’s name.   
Upon her realization, the chair immediately swiveled around, revealing who had requested to meet with her. 

The first thing that caught her eye was his size; he could only be about three-foot-four as his legs didn’t even reach the edge of the chair. The second thing was what he looked like. The man was adorned in a black and blue pinstripe suit combo, a red tie with “F.R.” embroidered in the middle of it, a white undershirt, and polished brown shoes that were polished to hell and back. His  _ other _ most defining feature (besides the fake cigar he couldn’t even smoke due to said feature) was his head, which was an old Earth-based TV complete with “bunny ears” on the top of his head. His face was the screen, changing to display different features and faces when he needed to. He has a slightly sleazy aura around him, offering an opponent hand to the comparative giant.

“Fausta J. Richaad, at your service! Please, call me Fausta,” the alien man finished her sentence.

“Oh! Well, hello there, Mr. Richa- I mean, Fausta,” Nebulava smiled as she tried to shake the man’s incredibly small hand without snapping it like a twig. The touch of his hand was cold, as if it was made of metal...which it was.

“Ya know, my daughta is a HUGE fan of yous, and I mean HUGE! She goes around all da time playin’ wit’ her action figure of yous! And, eh, what’s dat theme song ya got?...Oh! I remembah!,” Fausta blurted out before standing up on the swiveling chair and beginning to sing.

“ **♪** _ She’s here to save da day, she’ll make da bad guys pay! Savin’ planets n’ da stars, in her ship known as da Mars- _ **♪** ”

“ **♪** _ She’ll break right through the sky, she’ll punch, she’ll kick, she’ll fly! She’s a one-woman armada- _ **♪** ”

“ **_♪She’s Captain Nebulava!♪_ ** ”

The two laughed as they finished singing her admittedly crummy theme song that came from the toy company that had the license to create merchandise based off of her.

“Ah...good times, I tell ya. Anyways, let’s get to work, shall we?,” Fausta inquired, a pair of butterfly-like wings appearing on his back as he flew up a projector on the ceiling, aiming it at the table. “Prepared a presentation in a few hours to show ya what I need!”   
  
Nebulava didn’t reply, staring at the three foot tall bug robot hybrid man as he fiddled with the projector.   
  
“Ah, stupid thing...damn projectah won’t work...c’mon, ya bucket of bolts!...I  _ swear _ I’m gonna flip my lid right here, right now!...what the f-,” Fausta mumbled to himself before the projector spurted to live, projecting a hologram onto the table for both to see.  
  
“...Got it, cap’n!”   
  
Fausta flew back down to his seat and pulled out a remote control from the other armrest, twirling it around on his index finger before pressing the play button, causing the hologram to chance to that of a massive Roman-styled coliseum, albeit decked out in some modern alien technology.

“Now, ya know who I am, right? Owner of da  _ Godspeed  _ tournament? Intergalactic chariot derby race thingamajig? Run da whole shebang?”   
  
“Yes, sir.”   
  
“Alright, good! Well, this thing only happens once every ten years on this privately owned planet I gots - Dunapol - right?, Well, we got this rule where the winners get to take home tons of dough, and I mean TONS! I’m talkin’ millions, Nebulava, millions!”   
“Alright, I’m following.”   
  
“Well, we got this _ other _ rule: if yous in jail, you can participate and if ya win, ya get da dough and your freedom! Don’t worry, we made sure it’s legal, that ain’t the problem!”   
  
At this point, Fausta pressed an arrow button on the remote, causing the hologram to change to that of a...well, he sure has a character.   
  
The hologram was that of a skeletal-looking being - no, scratch that, he was a literal skeleton - in what appeared to be ancient Kreykon war gear. The Kreykon’s genetic makeup gave each of them three eyes, reflected in the skeleton’s empty eye sockets with only three bright lights acting as any indication that he could see. The skeleton itself was yellowed and worn as if it had been left out for years to decay, a toothy grin taking up plenty of the skull’s headspace. The rest of it was taken up by a steel mask, six spikes adorning the top with two red lines going over his left eye and the rest of the painted decorations being yellow, hovering above his higher centered eye and his right eye. The mask had a slit for where his nostrils would be and was attached to a brown belt-like strap that went around the skull, completing the head’s features.

The rest of the man was taken up by the war gear: a small red bandana, a grey button down shirt that displayed his rib cage, two brown leather gloves, a leather belt with a golden buckle and a gun holster, blue jeans, and brown boots with laces and black soles. The rest of his gear was armor, whether it be the two brass kneepads or the single spiked shoulder pad that was connected to a strap that went around his torso. In his right hand was a heavily modified Earth revolver, a vial of blue...something laying in the middle where the barrel of the gun would usually be. The man had a sinister feeling about him, almost staring into Nebulava‘s soul despite the fact that the hologram wasn’t alive.   
  
“This guy, right here? That’s Zephon Elius Kroi-”   
  
“The Black Sun. I know who he is,” Nebulava finished Fausta’s sentence, addressing the man by his full criminal alias. She had never personally met Kroi, but knew that a man who murdered the innocent as a profession and was paid handsomely for it was never any good news. She  _ also  _ knew that Kroi was still on the run and hadn’t been arrested, which made the point that Richaad had brought up all the more strange to her.   
  
“Alright, glad to know you’re on good terms,” Fausta said sarcastically. “Anyways, he’s legally allowed to participate, he’s got himself a chariot ready, that’s all settled. Da  _ problem  _ is that he was recently ambushed by ‘dese...horned guys who wanted to take ‘em alive. He said he fought ‘em off, but he  _ ALSO  _ said they’re still out there. And ‘dese guys are the same guys…,” Fausta stopped before pressing the button once more, the hologram switching to images of other criminals across the galaxy.   
  
“...who a bunch of criminals keep sayin’ they’ve met or seen doin’ the same thing to them or their pals. ‘Dese horned fellas are all over da’ galaxy, and if Kroi left them alive, they’re probably still on his tail whetha’ he knows it or not.”

Nebulava nodded, stroking her chin as she listened to Richaad’s speech. It was odd that she hadn’t heard of these incidents; she swore she would’ve seen or heard about at least one of them. Then again, she only recognized a few of the criminals, the rest being mysteries to her.   
“So what do you need me for in this scenario?,” Nebulava inquired, still staring at the holograms.

“Glad ya asked, cause’ I was just about to get to dat! Since Kroi is a wanted criminal n’ all, AND he could be bringin’ potential trouble to the games, I’m gonna ask if you can...y’know, show up and keep the audience safe. Intervene when you have to, kick some ass here n’ there, do the finger thing...do whatcha gotta do if the time comes, y’know?,” the sly man asked, tossing around the remote in his hands like it was a knick-knack on his office desk.

“I could do that, but wouldn’t that alert all of the criminals who’re competing? Like, ‘oh look, the coppers are here’,” the woman inquired.

“Ah, they already expect high security. Besides, good sportsmanship is already part of the deal; the last tournament from ten years ago, we had someone lose and he shot all of the contestants in the head! I mean, can you believe that?,” Fausta laughed to himself before looking up and noticing that Nebulava had a concerned look on her face

“*ahem*...Condolences to da families, of course,” the man continued, hiding a mechanical chuckle from the heroine.

“So you want me to be extra security, essentially?”   
“Pretty much. You’ll be handsomely paid for it, though. I’d never leave a client hangin’ dry like that,  _ especially  _ someone like you.”   
“I can take that offer...never been to one of these  _ Godspeed _ tournaments before, I could use the visuals. You got all your health stuff up to check?”   
“Ah, yeah, definitely. It may essentially be a big ol’ pit of sand and stone, but it’s a  _ safe  _ pit of sand and stone.”

“Alrighty then. It’s a deal, Fausta.”   
With that, the two parties fully shook hands as Fausta turned off the projector, their meeting concluding with good tidings and a few casual jokes as the two walked back into the crowded main room. After making it back outside, Fausta walked hurriedly towards his “run-down” spacecraft: said spacecraft looked to be worth more than Nebulava if she was worth her weight in diamonds.

“Alright, captain! I’ll see ya first thing tomorrow morning with ya pay!”   
  
“Glad to hear it! I’ll set my alarm for then! You have a good night, sir!”   
  
“You have a g’night too, cap’n!”   
  
With that, Richaad’s rocket took off towards the slowly-fading orange sky, the orange bleeding into a strange mixture of blue and purple that signalled night time was just beginning to come down upon Vanisivich. Nebulava made short work of reactivating the  _ Mars _ , taking her leave in preparation for the big day tomorrow.

She was gonna catch Black Sun in the act if that’s the last thing she ever did, and that was a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would mean so much to me if you left a comment. Even a negative one helps me improve so much and will make the end product so much better than I could ever hope to make it. Thank you.


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